4 responses to “Transcript of Jonathan Lethem’s Speech at the People’s Library on November 7th”

That author Jonathan Lethem must hitch his wagon to Norman Mailer is telling and more deep than merely scratching at the literary surface of Mailer. Where, exactly, show me, is the “ecstasy” in paying homage to a man (Mailer) who stabbed and nearly killed his second wife, Adele Morales? This poor lady currently lives in near poverty. Where is her ecstasy, ode or even a simple mention Jonathan Lethem?

Divorce the author from his personal life is always the counter argument and it is true for the most part. Writing is perhaps the most personal art, one must rise up a sculpture from a blank page, no clay, no models, only imaginative tenacity fueling the keyboard stroke, build it up, typed page, build it up.

I will never buy into or be alright with Norman Mailer as a “master” or his work “a literary monument” as Lethem states. That is a flawed literary world view about any author. There are no great works, only great concepts unrealized. Maybe it is that the Lethem-Mailer link is a shared place: Brooklyn. Well, I am from Brooklyn too and and in my place and time, real time, there is no exaltation, no room for a cheap jack, literary loudmouth who is defined by law as an attempted murderer.

Yes, as I’ve been reminded, the book. I really think that to write about graffiti, one must have wielded the spray paint can. Lethem shows zero knowledge on the subject. The motivation behind it is to tag what slice of neighborhood is yours. The mural type or the exaggerated use of cryptic lettering, along with figurative representations are not, and never will be, graffiti.

“The Ecstasy of Influence,” Lethem’s essay that takes on Harold Bloom’s book, is a walking, talking, breathing embarrassment that venerates the sneak footed, low crawling plagiarist. Yes, writers are influenced by other writers, it is a natural transference. One would think that a serious author would not so casually assign his byline with the word plagiarism in the subtitle. This entire work is a fusion of old and new, musings that are entirely lacking in energy and originality.